Ebony Castle

The secretary twisted his lips into a smile, as if amused by his own words.

“Feels like I’m grasping at rotten straws.”

“……”

“But with things at this point, there’s no harm in trying. I doubt you’ll succeed where Tristan Locke’s parents, friends, or even lifelong servants have failed, but… I have nothing to lose. I won’t stop you from visiting.”

Doha opened his mouth to say thank you, but the secretary was already pushing his chair back, as if he’d wasted too much time. The sound of wood scraping against polished floors echoed.

Before turning away, the secretary looked down at Doha.

“Don’t try to persuade him with pity. CEO may seem as fickle as a child, but in reality, he’s colder than you can imagine and smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. You can’t shake him with ordinary reasoning, not unless he’s made up his mind to be shaken.”

Looking up at him, Doha asked, “Then what do you suggest I do?”

The secretary shrugged.

“If I were you, I’d give up early and focus on negotiating a severance payment.”

“……”

“Still, if you want to try, I won’t stop you. I’ll make it easier for you. Go ahead and try to get Tristan Locke out of this damned mansion.”

A dog’s barking echoed from somewhere within the mansion. The secretary’s eyes gleamed white in the darkness, like someone trapped in a small room for far too long.

***

That night, Doha lost his way in the dark forest.

He first realized he was lost after passing a tree with a large, bent branch in the shape of an L. He didn’t remember seeing that tree on the way up.

Where had he gone wrong? Doha placed his hand on the tree and retraced his steps, suddenly recalling the innkeeper’s repeated warnings to return before dark.

“Ah!”

Unable to see properly, his foot caught on a tree root. He barely managed to stop himself from falling by bending his knees, but his legs hit the damp ground hard.

The temperature in the forest plummeted after sunset. Though Doha wore two layers under his padded jacket, the cold still seeped into his exposed hands and face. His body, which had felt chilly since the start, was now trembling intermittently.

His phone was in his pocket. He had the inn’s number saved, as well as Niklas and Richard’s in London. Although there were places in the forest where the signal was weak, if he wandered around long enough, he’d eventually find a spot to make a call. It might escalate the situation, but getting rescued wasn’t impossible.

Doha clung to this reassurance and continued forward. He chose random downhill paths, wandering until he found a wide road suitable for cars. Although this route would take longer, he decided to follow it, hoping to eventually reach the gate he had seen on the first day and then circle around the fence.

The forest at night was entirely different from during the day. The air was filled with the loud chirping of insects, and the wind rustling through the branches felt eerie. Occasionally, the flapping of wings and the hoot of an owl pierced the darkness from afar. Doha moved cautiously, trying to minimize the sound of his footsteps. He knew that in a forest this size, there were likely larger animals, and he hoped he wouldn’t become easy prey for any sharp-eared predators.

As he trudged through the dark forest, one slow step at a time, Doha thought about what lay ahead.

Even with the secretary’s help, meeting Tristan Locke again would likely result in a repeat of their previous conversation. The secretary had warned that emotional appeals wouldn’t work, but Doha wasn’t in a position to offer Locke any deals, either. Perhaps, as Richard had suggested, publicly exposing Neim, or at least threatening to do so, would be a more effective approach.

His thoughts became muddled. Thinking about the tedious, unwinnable fight ahead, Doha suddenly wondered if persistence was just another word for foolish stubbornness, not knowing when to give up.

“Ugh!”

His leg cramped, stiffening painfully. Doha barely caught himself, leaning against a nearby tree. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably, his teeth chattering audibly.

The moonlight, which had faintly illuminated his path, disappeared behind the clouds. He turned on his phone’s flashlight, but his hands were shaking too much to hold it steadily. He crouched down to pick up the phone after it slipped from his grasp, but now he didn’t want to get up.

“……”

Doha curled up, hugging his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew it was dangerous to fall asleep, but his vision was growing dim and blurred.

Then, the chirping of the insects suddenly ceased. In the ensuing silence, he heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires and saw bright headlights approaching from behind.

Doha staggered to his feet, moving to the side just as the large black car slowed down and stopped beside him.

Was the secretary concerned enough to come looking for him? Squinting, Doha stared at the descending car window.

“Lowell—”

He started to call the secretary’s name but fell silent. Through the crack in the car window, he saw pale, smooth skin, soft light-brown hair falling over a forehead, and beneath it, gray eyes that glowed clearly in the darkness.

“Get in,” Tristan Locke said. The seat beside him was empty.

Doha, dazed, pulled the car door open. The warm air inside the vehicle hit his frozen face, causing him to exhale sharply. Tristan Locke, without a word, reached into the back seat and handed Doha a coat.

It was his own coat. Doha clutched the heavy cashmere in his muddy arms, bowing his head.

“Th-thank you.”

His voice trembled. Without looking at him, Tristan Locke replied, “Take off your jacket first. It’ll keep you from warming up.”

“…Okay.”

Doha answered, but with his frozen hands, undoing the zipper and buttons of his jacket was an impossible task. Struggling with his trembling wrists, he saw Tristan Locke, who had been staring into the darkness, finally shift his gaze toward him.

Click. The sound of Tristan unfastening his seatbelt.

“Hold still.”

Doha, unsure if he was hallucinating from hypothermia, watched as Tristan Locke’s pale, elegant fingers unzipped his jacket. After stripping off Doha’s padded coat, he carefully covered him with the cashmere coat.

“Thank you,” Doha managed to say once Tristan’s hands left his body. Tristan Locke said nothing as he adjusted the car’s heater. Hot air blew across the back of Doha’s mud-caked calves, and the seat beneath him was warm.

Tristan Locke shifted gears and drove off. The large car bumped along the dirt road.

Doha occasionally opened his eyes to look at Tristan Locke’s white fingers gripping the steering wheel, before closing them again. The trembling in his body gradually subsided, warmth seeping into his limbs, making them tingle. As his mind cleared, he noticed his muddy boots, borrowed from the inn, dirtying Tristan Locke’s car.

The forest was still visible outside the window. The car was following a narrow, winding road.

“…Mr. Locke.”

“Yes.”

“Where are we going now?”

It didn’t seem like they were heading back to the mansion, as the road was not uphill. Doha didn’t know when they had changed direction, but this was an unfamiliar path. Even in the dark, Tristan’s driving was smooth.

Just when Doha thought he wouldn’t answer, Tristan glanced at him. His eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror.

“You’re more easily scared than I thought.”

“……”

“If I intended to bury you in the forest, I would’ve had someone else do it. I wouldn’t get my hands dirty.”

He reached out to lower the heater temperature, then added gently, “But if you’re still worried, you can contact someone. Once we’re done talking, I’ll drive you back to your lodging. It might be safest to inform them.”

“…I’m fine.”

Doha let his phone slide between his thighs. As Tristan said, there was no way he would dirty his own hands. He was the kind of person who didn’t need to go to such trouble for anything.

The road became narrower. The tips of reeds brushed against the windows, and the car jolted a couple of times over the uneven path. When the car rounded a corner on the bumpy road, Doha instinctively leaned closer to the windshield.

A dull moonlight shimmered over a murky lake. Before them stretched an endless expanse of water, and it was impossible to see the opposite shore. Tristan parked the car by the lakeside and looked out the windshield, clicking his tongue.

“It’s a beautiful place on clear days. Today, it looks rather ominous.”

The engine shut off. As the heater’s soft blowing stopped, silence descended inside the car, leaving only the sound of their breathing. In front of them, the lake rippled silently in the wind.

“You said you wanted to see me.”

The man beside him spoke in a low, smooth voice.

“Lowell said you came several times.”

“…Yes.”

“Is it for the same reason as before?”

Doha thought back to the first day he met him, the red sunlight streaming through the study window. He had replayed the encounter many times in his head, but no matter how much he thought about it, there was no better way.

The secretary had been right. Tristan Locke couldn’t be moved by ordinary reasoning.

The man seemed to take Doha’s silence as confirmation and sighed softly.

“I don’t reconsider requests I’ve already rejected. This conversation is going to be just as futile as last time.”

“……”

Doha felt as if he wouldn’t be able to say anything, no matter how hard he tried. Just like the cold in the forest had drained him of all motivation, even breathing felt difficult. Or perhaps it was because of the man sitting next to him. Whenever he faced Tristan Locke, Doha felt like a tiny slingshot aiming at a massive fortress.

The beautiful man, who had been quietly observing Doha’s face, spoke again.

“Do you feel wronged?”

“……”

“Does it bother you that you’re suffering because of my name, while I bear no responsibility?”

The indifferent question seeped into his ears. Slowly, Doha shook his head.

“Mr. Locke…”

His voice cracked as he spoke.

“…You didn’t choose this situation. It would be irrational to blame you.”

It was the truth, but also a lie. Sometimes, Doha felt such a deep resentment toward the calm, beautiful face in front of him that he wanted to tear it apart.

Tristan Locke, who had been resting his chin on the steering wheel while watching Doha, curled his lips into a slow smile.

“You’ll regret it.”

“……”

“In about ten years, you’ll be crippled, living in some flat without doing anything. You don’t have any other talents besides playing the piano, and you’ll have enough money deposited into your account each month. I’m not sure how much worse your paralysis will get, but even if you’re still able to move, you probably won’t go out much. You’ll be afraid of people’s stares, and if you happen to see a piano in a park somewhere, your life will feel miserably pointless.”

The everyday life Tristan painted with a few simple words was cruel and vivid enough to stick to the inside of Doha’s eyelids, even with his eyes closed. Staring at Doha’s frozen expression, Tristan continued nonchalantly.

“And on particularly depressing days, you might regret not letting yourself be as irrational as possible when you last saw Tristan Locke by that Scottish lakeside.”

“……”

“You’ll think you should have screamed at me or even hit me, because that was your last chance.”

Tristan spread his palms toward Doha, as if to say,

. His gray eyes were filled with neither sympathy nor mockery, but a tepid light, as though he would accept whatever anger Doha unleashed today.

For a while, Doha stared at the man’s face in the dark. The moonlight had escaped from behind the clouds, painting the lake blue and illuminating Tristan Locke’s face in stark white. He was right. After today, there would be no more opportunities to see him, to threaten or beg him. This lakeside meeting was the final charity Tristan Locke would give him—the closest thing to

Doha had ever experienced.

“If that’s what you want…”

Doha’s voice was steady now. He spoke quietly, as if reciting a pre-written script.

“I’ll do whatever Mr. Locke desires.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Usually, that phrase means sex. But I guess the roles are reversed this time.”

“I don’t have anything Mr. Locke needs, but still, I’ll give you whatever you want. From now on… all the money I make, I’ll give to you, and I’ll live doing whatever you ask.”

“You’re proposing a kind of slave contract.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

“Why?”

For the first time, Tristan’s smooth expression faltered. He stared at Doha with a gaze that had shed its habitual composure.

“Why go that far? Wouldn’t it be better to live freely for however long you can, even if you lose the use of your hands, than to be tied to me for the rest of your life?”

“……”

“Don’t tell me, is this because you want to play the piano again? Are you doing all of this for such a hopeless dream?”

Doha remained silent. Their gazes held in the darkness for a long moment.

Suddenly, Tristan reached out. His pale fingertips brushed against Doha’s cheek with a light touch, like teasing a hypersensitive nerve. Doha froze, holding his breath.

Tristan withdrew his hand and casually looked down at Doha.

“You do play surprisingly well. I was honestly a bit impressed.”

“…Oh.”

“The video of you at the Leeds Competition is still online. There’s the winner’s encore and the Locke Foundation concert as well.”

Doha’s thoughts scattered, and he closed his mouth. Tristan’s gaze left him, drifting over the moonlit lake.

“You have the talent and the work ethic. It’s unfortunate, being struck down just as your career was starting. I can understand why Eden went so far as to track me down. There were no other options, were there?”

Tristan’s voice was soft, as if consoling or persuading.

“As a patron of classical music, I too regret that I can’t help Eden. If money could solve the issue, I’d be more inclined to lend a hand… But for something that requires a physical relationship with me, well, as I said before, I don’t see the same sex in that way. I can’t grant that request.”

“If you were asleep…”

Doha stopped, sensing the emptiness in his own words.

“If you were asleep, I could handle it myself. I wouldn’t take much of your time. Just a few times…”

Tristan let out a low, almost deflated laugh. After that brief sound, his expression turned cold, observing Doha closely.

“You really have no pride, do you?”

“……”

“Let’s stop here. You seem like someone who can find a way to live well, even in your current state. When you get tired of reminiscing about your glorious past, maybe you’ll find a new hobby that suits your body—composing, perhaps, or volunteering. Plenty of people live meaningful lives without playing the piano.”

As if the conversation had ended, Tristan turned away and reached for the ignition.

“I’ll take you back to the village. Discuss the details of the sponsorship with Lowell tomorrow. I’ll make sure he takes care of things so you won’t feel slighted.”

“……”

“We won’t be seeing each other again after today… but I wish you the best of luck.”

The car engine roared to life.

At that moment, something snapped in Doha’s mind. Before he realized it, his body had leaned over the steering wheel, wedging himself between it and Tristan. He placed a hand on Tristan’s chest and pushed down.

“Are you going to rape me now?”

Tristan’s face, half-obscured in shadow, looked up at Doha with an amused expression.

“Hngh!”

In an instant, Doha was lifted off the ground. Tristan’s steel-like grip dug into his wrist, pressing him painfully against the steering wheel.

Doha, fully aware of their strength and size difference, struggled nonetheless. He swung his arm, trying to free it from Tristan’s grasp, and used his head to repeatedly ram Tristan’s chest. He wasn’t thinking clearly, just that once the car started moving, it would all be over.

“Ugh, no, ugh!”

The sound escaping his lips felt strange to him. Though he knew Tristan wasn’t at fault, though he knew the situation wasn’t his doing, Doha fought like a desperate animal, as if resisting an unavoidable fate.

Thud! His wrist was released, and Tristan’s hand slammed into the window with a dull thud. The man groaned softly. His arm wrapped around Doha’s slender neck, pulling him into a tight headlock.

“Might as well…”

Tristan whispered low into Doha’s ear, who was gasping for breath.

“…change gears.”

“Hrngh! Ugh!”

“Let’s go into the lake together.”

The entire car shook violently several times. Tristan’s foot was pressing down hard on the accelerator. If the gear shifted from park to drive, they would plunge straight into the deep water just meters ahead.

Tristan’s strong arm pressed against the back of Doha’s neck, forcing his face against Tristan’s shoulder. Desperately, Doha flailed, struggling to clear his rapidly dimming vision from lack of air. In the midst of it all, he heard Tristan Locke’s low, cold laughter in his ear.

“Wouldn’t it be more advantageous for you to fight me in the water? Who knows, maybe I’ll sink and you’ll float.”

“Hrngh!”

With all his remaining strength, Doha moved his free arm and pulled the car door open instead of shifting gears. His stiff fingers barely managed to grip the lever, and a rush of cold air poured into the boiling car.

Both Doha and Tristan Locke tumbled out of the car, locked together.

“Ugh!”

Tristan’s back hit the ground first. In the moment his grip loosened, Doha slipped out from under his arm. He couldn’t stand, but he crawled a few steps toward the forest. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind, yanking him back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Tristan seized both of Doha’s shoulders and mercilessly shoved him into the muddy ground near the water.

“You’re not leaving before being raped. That wouldn’t be right, would it?”

“Haa, ugh—”

Despite being covered in mud, Tristan’s face glistened in the moonlight with a strange smile. His beautiful eyes curved, and his white teeth gleamed like those of a madman. For a moment, Doha forgot why he had attacked him, staring up at him in a daze.

“Surrendering?”

Tristan asked, looking down. Doha suddenly turned his head and bit down hard on Tristan’s wrist, like a cornered animal.

“Ugh!”

The two bodies tangled again, rolling through the mud. Tristan clearly had the upper hand in strength, but Doha’s desperation lent him power. A car with one door open idled nearby, and the intertwined bodies, drenched in mud, rolled down toward the water, illuminated by the bright headlights.

Using both his hands and feet to struggle, Doha faintly heard a sound in the distance. It was Tristan Locke’s laughter.

“Haa… urgh…”

His vision swam. Above the man’s head, he could see the crescent moon in the sky, with scattered clouds and a few stars.

In his final struggle, Doha realized he had exhausted all his energy and quietly let his body go limp. He looked up at Tristan Locke, who was now atop him, then closed his eyes. The labored breathing of both men slowly began to fade. The sounds of the forest, previously forgotten, began to rise and fill Doha’s ears again, buzzing like a distant hum.

“…Eden.”

A voice emerged from the darkness. The name was uttered softly, as if the speaker were unfamiliar with the word. A hand, descending from above, gently touched Doha’s dry cheek.

Doha didn’t respond. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and his throat filled with bile.

“Urgh—”

As Doha weakly moved his head, Tristan obediently shifted off him. Doha crawled toward the water alone, vomiting clear stomach acid into the dark water.

His vision flickered and then blacked out. As he watched the white line of moonlight cut across the water’s surface, Doha collapsed onto the cold, muddy ground, burying his cheek in the earth. The damp wings of darkness, leaking out from the forest, spread over his eyelids.